Promoted Fanboy
by Frosty Autumn
Summary: Billy's carnival battle has caught some very powerful people's attention. The Justice League are watching. Waiting. Wondering. Accepting the risk, they converge to do recon on the one everyone is calling the hero of Philadelphia. If Billy is bad news, they will not hesitate to contain him. If he's truly a hero, then there are six chairs, but room for more.
1. The Audition

"Master Bruce, I believe the evening news might be of some interest to you tonight."

Alfred set down a silver tray balancing steaming tea and a midnight snack at the Batcomputer desk console. Bruce was leaning forward, chin rested on his steepled fingers, immersed in a data file he had pulled up. The batsuit cowl was for show and protection, it had no practical use otherwise, so Bruce had removed it upon arrival and set it aside, letting the musty cave air cool the sweat on his scalp.

He glanced sidelong, reverie broken.

"Thank you, Alfred," he said tiredly, but appreciative. Tapping a function button on his keyboard, the file minimized and slid aside, making way for an enlarged Gotham news feed window.

_"—going to Donna Gibbs at the scene in Philadelphia. Donna."_

_"Thanks, Jack. Behind me, clean-up crews are still ascertaining the extent of the damage, but in a miraculous turn, no casualties have been reported."_

Using his peripheral to reach for his tea, Bruce kept his eyes trained on the screen to absorb every detail, audible and visual.

Donna was awash in the news camera's spotlight, given the nighttime hour. Flecks of gentle snow fell at a slant against her black peacoat and the breeze teased her blond curls. Behind her was a scene straight out of a National Geographic extreme weather documentary. Colorful Christmas-themed debris was scattered in an excessive diameter that far exceeded the camera's margins. Stringed lights were draped and dangling, or pulled taut from their broken anchors, with very few bulbs surviving the wreckage. Most notable was the misshapen remains of a toppled ferris wheel, cast on its side, freed of its moorings.

A normal first inkling would suggest that violent high winds tore the area apart, but Alfred would not have diverted Bruce's attention to a natural disaster in a city seventy miles away. No, not since the emergence of beings beyond all human capability...

Bruce lowered his teacup before it touched his lips. He narrowed his eyes.

Donna strolled along the taped-off perimeter she was allowed to traverse, speaking into her microphone. "_According to eyewitnesses tonight of what was the Chilladelphia Winter Carnival, many reported a caped, red figure coming to their rescue, before a group of similarly-dressed individuals eventually joined him."_

Bruce set down his tea promptly. He leaned forward.

_"One eyewitness trapped in the stalled ferris wheel, rescued before its collapse, managed to capture this part of the destruction on his cell phone. We do warn that the images you are about to see may be shocking."_

The feed cut to grainy amateur footage with a high vantage point, over a much cleaner festival. Muscle ticks and frightened panting by the operator gave the image an unsteady picture, but the recording's focal point centered on a showdown happening below, between a blurry yellow glow bordered by a pop of red, and black coated figure opposite. When the picture finally steadied in momentary lapses, Bruce could discern the brighter figure better—a man clad in a red bodysuit bearing a glowing lightning bolt over the chest, with a hooded, white, two-tier cape billowing behind.

The mysterious man's dueling partner was much harder to dissect. Though the Carnival boasted an impressive collection of end-to-end Christmas lights, their reach could only do so much after sundown. The shadows seemed to follow this other man in the black coat. He carried a staff topped with a luminous blue orb of some kind. He jutted it forcefully and a crack of blue lightning shot from the point. The camera holder was so startled that the picture jostled and Bruce was not able to see the result of where the lightning hit, but the aim seemed dead set on the one in red.

After a few disorienting seconds, the camera found the man in red again. No battle damage marked him. In retaliation, he shot forward so powerfully that Bruce was instantly reminded of Clark. This new superhuman possessed the power of flight.

The owner of the camera had zoomed in too far for both figures to be in the same shot for long. Bruce spotted two red pinpricks in the periphery, which he dismissed as a Christmas light reflection, until another pair joined the first. Bruce squinted. Smoky shadow seemed to unfurl and follow their movement. Bruce soon discovered that these were disembodied glowing eyes, and the further he tried to make sense of the picture, he pieced together that the eyes belonged to some horrid, gargoyle-like creatures.

The footage froze and then cut off. Donna was back on. Bruce vacated his chair, walking away.

_"Now, we have received reports of over thirty attendees in hospital with injuries sustained in the attack, but as of now no official word on an exact number."_

Alfred stood dutifully aside, watching the screen. "Shall I call in for the Mercedes or the jet?"

"Jet. I'm going to need more seats."

* * *

Philadelphia Decembers were not particularly kind, but at least the lovely twilight offset the air's gentle bite.

Arthur sat atop the roof's A/C unit, legs splayed in a very alpha stance, leaning one elbow on his knee. "Don't know why we had to call in a meeting when Supes and Speedy could do all the recon work in two minutes."

Bruce had one booted foot poised on the lip of the downtown apartment rooftop they were using as a scouting position. "We're a League. Not a sovereignty, not a regime. Everybody should have a say on what we make of this guy, and to do that we need to all be witness to what he can do."

Arthur thoughtfully considered those words. Then, he quirked his head and stared over the edge for a view of ground level. "Hey, democracy works for me," he said agreeably.

Barry walked out from behind the A/C unit. "Seconded," he added, raising his hand. "Plus, not gonna lie, it feels _great_ to be in this thing again." He affectionately poked one of the scuffed red plates on the arm of his costume.

"Wearing our armor is a precaution," reminded Bruce as a minor gust of wind rustled his cape. "We don't know what this person is capable of yet, and I'm still not fully on either side if he's friend or foe."

"So until we know for sure, it's dress rehearsal. Got it," said Barry with a curt nod, the feeling of importance swelling in his chest. But it was only momentary. "By the way, I know I already told you, like, two hundred times, but really, thank you for the lift."

Not that Barry was a member who really needed to hitch a ride on the Wayne jet to get to Philadelphia (he could dash there in five minutes, with four minutes and fifty-eight seconds to spare for drive-thru) but the seats were leather-wrapped heaven and he ate _so_ many complementary Skittles on the plane.

Diana also stood on the rooftop's threshold, though a little more boldly than Bruce. Her feet were both planted firmly on the risen edge, a steep drop just one wrong move forward. Her hands were rested on her hips as she surveyed the street twenty stories below. A burgundy cloak was draped over her shoulders and hung quite regally. A rounded protrusion on her back gave away the concealed presence of her shield. It was strapped and tucked away for now, but she was ready if the time would come to use it.

Victor wore a dark jacket and track pants to hide the glint off his mechanical parts. Their target tonight was clearly super-human, so super eyesight was probably a given. "So what is this guy going by?" asked Victor, looking across Diana to Bruce. "What are we calling him?"

"Haven't been able to find an official one. News agencies nickname him, but it varies. Lightning Man. Mister Philadelphia. Captain Marvelous..."

Arthur changed position. His butt was getting numb. "Whatever it is, you gotta hand it to him, the guy definitely stands out. Not in a good way, but I guess not all of us can choose our look."

Victor looked over his shoulder sardonically.

The last hint of sunlight winked out of existence, bringing the night. Artificial city lights, flicked to life an hour ago, picked up the slack.

Victor acknowledged Bruce. "You tracked him all the way down here?"

"It took a couple days to find the pattern, but most sightings after the Winter Festival seem to be frequent in this general downtown area," Bruce said. "There is a higher than average crime rate on this street. If he shows, we'll be ready. If he is a threat to innocents, we'll jump in."

"Well," said Victor, looking down at their target peeking around the building's corner, "can't say you were wrong."

The Man In Red wasn't quite learned in the disciplines of stealth yet, it seemed. The League had been waiting for him to emerge from the alleyway between the two apartment complexes for quite a while now. One of Bruce's surveillance drones spotted him there, but The Man In Red had not moved since. Stoicism did not seem to be in his repertoire, either. He paced back and forth rather fitfully, talking to himself or to the trash cans, like he was psyching himself up. The League kept their presence a secret, standing back to wait in the wings and observe. Amateur footage on the nightly news and Youtube uploads were one thing, but it only told half the story.

"Where is Superman?" asked Diana. Though their coded identity names seemed formal after everything they had been through, in today's Big Brother world, only code names were allowed in the field.

"He'll show," assured Bruce. "He needed to make a detour. I sent him an overview."

Six of them against one seemed like overkill. But this wasn't overkill. If this new super-being had abilities anywhere near Clark's range, even to the point of overtaking them, Bruce would take every single precaution thinkable. He would never let the crisis in Metropolis happen again...

Clark, fortunately, proved well-meaning, trustworthy, and disciplined to a noble moral code.

That did not mean that every act that followed would do the same.

"Hey, hey," said Barry swiftly, tapping the rooftop barrier, signalling for everybody's attention. "Looks like your bait is attracting some potential clients."

A rather fancy Aston Martin was parked curbside in front of the apartment building; way too fancy for such a run down area typically avoided by sensible people. Especially after sundown. An Aston Martin would be sure to attract less-than-ideal passerby, like a magpie to a shiny ring.

Luckily for anyone naive enough to leave their expensive car unattended on this particular street, this one was provided courtesy of the Wayne garage.

Four nondescript individuals turned a western corner underneath The League's vantage and strolled the sidewalk. The glint off the sleek black car acted like a beacon. Judging by the way the group paused, huddled, and then spoke among themselves, they had seen it. Adopting more of a skulking, nonchalant lope now, they eased their way closer in. A lookout straggled behind, walking backwards to make sure no witnesses were watching from the rear.

Catching up to the car, one of them shielded his eyes and pressed his face close against the passenger window to peer past the black tint. They talked among themselves. Opening their jackets, they started trading tools hidden in compartments of their clothing, pointing to some and disregarding others as they tried to decide the best way to get what they wanted.

They were going for it.

Arthur drummed his fingers over his knee. "Anytime now, hero..." he said.

The seconds were ticking. The gang had officially graduated to would-be criminals as one of them wedged a Slim Jim down into the Aston Martin's passenger door. Clearly they realized the futility in utilizing such a simplistic tool on a modern, high-end vehicle when nothing was happening. Another member got impatient and sent his elbow into the glass, shattering it.

Something else shattered the night right after.

"License and registration, buddy!" a strong voice called down below, inflated with bravado that could be heard from the rooftop.

Arthur smiled. "There we go." Plucking the trident leaning on the vent, he hopped off his seat and joined the others in their VIP front row seats to the action.

Bruce tapped a few buttons on his gauntlet's computer interface. The wireless transmitters in everyone's ears switched on. They would be able to hear everything coming from street level, even from their lofty position.

In unison, the four criminals turned.

"Seriously?!" cried one of them. "Another one of you spandex clowns?"

The Man In Red's bold manner faltered briefly. He paused to pinch his costume and pull the fabric experimentally. "Actually, if I'm being honest, I don't know what this is made of."

The thug who smashed the window pulled a switchblade from his pocket. "Who cares. He bleeds like the rest of them. Let's make one less..."

As he spoke, more darkly-clothed gang members appeared out of the woodwork, seemingly from the very mortar making this street. Reinforcements were hiding everywhere, or perhaps just happened to be in the area and were alerted by the noise. But whether that was lucky (the thugs could gang up on The Man In Red) or unlucky (eleven people would be on a mission to be admitted to the emergency room tonight) remained to be seen.

The Man In Red was surrounded. He swiveled, taking in his surroundings as more of the gang closed in.

Lacing his fingers together, he flexed them outward, cracking his knuckles. "All right," he said, shaking his fingers out. "Who wants to go first?"

The gang did not take their notes from movies; they rushed The Man In Red all at the same time in groups. Some pulled standard street weapons from their jackets, some had nothing but their fists.

But what they were all going to have by the end of this were broken bones.

The ones charging from The Man In Red's left were blown back with one powerful backsweep of an arm. Some went sprawling on their backs, while another was caught before he fell. Unfortunately, it was by way of the lamppost. The sound of teeth colliding on steel made Barry flinch. The ones who charged from the right were suddenly swiping at air when The Man In Red disappeared in a blur, showing up again leaning casually against the building, goading the thugs to try again. If anybody, excluding Barry, blinked, they would have missed it.

Clark picked a wonderful time to show up, floating down from above, stopping to hover a few feet over The League.

"Catch me up," he said, touching down to land, joining the cluster.

"Right on time. What do you think?" asked Bruce. "Alien?"

Clark honed in on The Man In Red down below and tightened his eyes. Bruce waited, letting Clark study the mysterious man's insides.

"Not alien," concluded Clark. "The physiology is fully human. This one got his abilities some other way."

"Not even breaking a sweat here!" bragged The Man In Red. Some of the downed thugs quickly learned their lesson and bolted, but clearly not enough of them.

Bruce looked to Diana. "What do you make of his combat style? Any strategy patterns you can pick up on?"

Diana concentrated for a further extended second. When she shook her head, the movement was very light. "His pattern is...I can't really explain. It's almost like he has no strategy at all. It's not of any I've ever seen."

Arthur came up beside Diana, following her eyeline. "It's bad form," he agreed. "The stance is messy. He's gotta be winging it."

"He must be very powerful to be that confident, then," mused Victor. His red cybernetic eye whirred as it tracked the brawl, sorting information as it collected. "He's pulling his punches."

Barry winced as he watched a thug be catapulted three car lengths away, skidding and rolling on the sidewalk where he landed. "_That's_ pulling his punches?"

"His joule-per-punch capacity far exceeds what he's giving," analyzed Victor. "He's being merciful."

_Like Clark,_ Bruce thought. If Superman lacked the discipline to hold back, his punches would be akin to forty-five megatons of dynamite.

Bruce fell particularly quiet, studying quite intently. He was analyzing patterns and moves The Man In Red was displaying, trying to find weaknesses to develop a contingency plan to contain him should he prove uncontrollable and dangerous to the populace. The Man In Red already had the Winter Festival rescue under his belt, but one good deed does not a trustworthy man make.

None of the criminals got far—as far as bringing down their adversary went. Bruce was even certain that no switchblades grazed The Man In Red, but that could have been owed to a possible skin inpenetrability. Or perhaps the color red was more of a strategic choice than an aesthetic one.

The street brawl was winding down. It could hardly even be called a brawl, it had mostly been one-sided. A couple thugs had been smart in the beginning; one display of super-human feat and they were scattering. The brave ones came back for more. The bold ones put a bet on third time's the charm. And the senseless ones were writhing on the sidewalk. Nobody returned for another round.

"Give him one more minute to cool down," said Clark. "We're moving in. He can fly, so I'll take position above. Remember formation."

Everyone nodded, settling in and prepping for the signal to move.

"So," Barry said, trailing Arthur. "King of the seas, huh? So, do, like, lakes fall into your jurisdiction, too, is it kind of like a Commonwealth deal, do we dryfolk need to be wary of any freshwater versus saltwater wars..."

Arthur blinked. Then he looked into the distance ponderingly. "Yeah, man," he said in an exhale, "the frogs are thinking of expanding their territory. I just got back from weeks of negotiations over an amphibian uprising."

Barry tensed.

* * *

**Seven Minutes Earlier...**

_Oh God! Okay, okay, calm down, Billy,_ he coached himself inwardly, peeking from around the alley corner. Even his inner voice was panting. _Think of it like an audition. Impress them! This is your shot._

Of course he was aware of who was watching him. Super senses kind of came pre-installed with the whole Shazam package.

_Maybe they'll think you're cool under pressure if you use a one-liner! You got this, you got—_

"I've got a better idea," one thug said impatiently. Bringing his arm high, he smashed his elbow against the car window, exploding it to pieces.

_...Woops. Hurry up, GO NOW._

* * *

**A/N: I was extremely excited for this idea when I thought of it last week and immediately got started, but the enthusiasm got weaker and weaker as the days went on and I wasn't so confident in it as I thought I was. The story wasn't unfolding as entertainingly as I intended, and there were a lot of technical hiccups, but I had already written so much that I thought it would be a waste to not upload it and get it all out. I've got the bare bones of an outline, but I'm just winging it for a lot of this.**  
**Tell me what you think, though. If readers actually legitimately like it, I'll get that initial spark back again.**

**I know that Freddy is the one typically considered the superhero fanboy, but I'm sure Billy has an admiration for heroes too, especially after what he's been through. They're basically celebrities after all, I'm sure he'd gush a bit and be a little starstruck himself.**


	2. The Third Degree

The last thug hobbled onto his feet and booked it clear off, too scared to look over his shoulder. The Man In Red initiated a celebratory dance, humming to a tuneless beat only he could hear in his head.

"Cut the lights," said Clark.

Victor took only a moment to configure the settings before the streetlights extinguished from the entire square block.

The Man In Red wasn't humming anymore.

"Move in."

Bruce and Diana stepped off the ledge in tandem, plummeting. Mid-fall, Diana pulled her lasso attached to her hip from beneath her cloak, wound it up, and launched it downward. The Man In Red's reaction time was too slow. By the time he looked above, the lasso had already looped around his chest, pinning his arms to his side. Diana landed hard before him, bending her knees to absorb an impact that barely fazed her, and pulled strong. The rope's incandescent, golden glow lit up The Man In Red's astonished expression.

Bruce's descent was slowed by his grappling hook gun, squeezed in his gloved hand. His pointed cape was flared like ominous wings and he landed in a crouch on top of a sleeping streetlight for the high vantage.

Barry was the fractional second of a crimson blur before The Man In Red was downed to his knees, having been kicked out from behind. Victor floated down by the rocket-fueled propulsion systems in his feet, touching down at The Man In Red's side, pointing his arm cannon threateningly.

"Don't move," warned Victor.

Arthur landed as hard as Diana did, the poor sidewalk taking the full brunt of his landing. He planted his trident firmly down, standing underneath Bruce's streetlight as the immovable, final fourth position of the boxed on-ground formation trapping their target.

Before The Man In Red could sort out the members of this impromptu ambush, he heard a flapping noise and looked skyward. Clark was floating down from above, keeping him well within his sights.

The entire block was dark enough to leave the League their much-needed privacy in dealing with their new potential recruit. Or adversary, whatever the case may be. They were prepared for either.

The Man In Red, downed and outnumbered, flashed his palm in a sheepish greeting to everybody in attendance. "Uhhh...hi."

Diana's grip was firm. "Who are you? The lasso compels you to tell the truth."

* * *

The lasso's soft gold light casted shadows on their faces like a weak flashlight under the chin, making them look a lot more menacing than the civilian bystander shots made them appear. This was not quite how Billy planned this run-in to go. And by not quite, he meant not. At all. What was with the third degree?

_I don't even have a superhero name yet! Okay, come on, think. Every superhero should have a name. The news called me Captain Thunder once. Red Cyclone? Yeah! Use that, I'll—William Batson, but I go by Billy! Born in Minnesota! Fourteen years old!_

_WHAT? No,, no, no, don't tell her that!_

_Tell her Red Cyclone. Tell her—William Batson, but I go by Billy! Born in Minnesota! Fourteen years old!_

_Stop it!  
_

* * *

The Justice League watched expectantly. The Man In Red seemed to be in some mental discomfort. He grit his teeth and would occasionally flick his head as if shaking a thought away. He stayed awfully non-compliant, however.

Arthur leaned unsurely toward Diana. "I thought you said this thing worked."

"It does. He's just doing a very good job resisting." She pulled her lasso tighter, adding to its boa constrictor squeeze. Her lips pressed as she gave a little more effort than she expected. "Who are you?" she reiterated.

* * *

Oh, Freddy was going to shove his face into the garburator for sure! Billy didn't know where blowing your secret identity fell on the **DO ****NOT****'S** Of Superheroing List, but that one had to be top three at least.

He looked down at the incandescent golden rope.

_You mean this thing actually works?!_

Blabbing his real identity was not just a string of consciousness thought, it was pushing itself to the forefront. A compulsion was driving him to admit everything. A pressure in his mouth was building to form the W to say William. He concentrated harder to beat the urge back, which he found he could actually do if he willed it hard enough.

_Just tell her nothing. Don't say anything.  
_

* * *

"This isn't possible," said Diana, keeping her grip on the rope as iron-clad as ever. The Man In Red's eyes were open now, and though his mouth still seemed a little tight, twitching just once, he was looking straight at her as if bored with the proceedings. "Nobody can resist the lasso's power. Nobody except..." Her eyes blanked as she considered the possibility.

"Except?" said Arthur.

Diana faced him. "A god."

* * *

_Wow_, thought Billy, stricken. _She's so much more beautiful up close..._

Wonder Woman's eyes tightened. "Who bestowed you your powers?" she demanded.

Billy blinked out of his reverie. "Hey, wait a second. If you guys get to keep a secret, I think I'm entitled to one, too."

Wonder Woman glowered.

Billy gulped. "Ma'am."

Superman broke rank from his lofty position, landing beside Wonder Woman. "Let him go," he intervened.

Billy looked between the two, just as confused as Wonder Woman was.

"I did not say we'd let you go free," warned Superman, answering the question that must have been telegraphed through Billy's expression. "Not yet. We all need to have a serious talk."

"Oh, well if you guys want some privacy..." offered Billy.

"He meant you, Bolt Man," said Aquaman.

Billy shrank under his stare, shifting nervously. "You're the boss," he said cooperatively.

Superman's voice was quite even. Stern, but not domineering. Not that it mattered, Billy wasn't going to try anything. He wasn't sure if his powers could truly withstand going toe-to-toe with Superman's, but he certainly did not want to try and find out. Plus there was the respect factor. Major respect. You don't back-talk the guy who saved the world from intergalactic takeover. Singlehandedly_._ And then did it again a second time, just in case you forgot.

Superman's mouth was set in a firm line, like there was some debate in his mind, but his decision was final. "Let him go," he repeated. He also nodded at Victor to lower his arm cannon.

Wonder Woman looked hesitant. She shifted, as if hoping that perhaps the lasso's effects were delayed. Alas, even she had to contend with the truth. Reluctantly, she loosened and removed the loop binding the mysterious man. She coiled the rope over her forearm, staring at it as if it would give her the answers, mystified.

Aquaman stamped his trident down, creating a very attention-grabbing clang. "Don't even try to run. You won't get far," he advised.

Billy raised his open palms in a show of surrender, elbows tight to his sides, motor-mouthing, "Hey man, I'll sleep here if you want me to, it's cool, I won't try anything funny, promise."

He suddenly regretted every fish joke he ever made at the guy's expense and silently prayed that nobody in the group had hidden mind-reading powers to rat him out. Aquaman's amber eyes pierced him to the spot. Water or no water, that trident was looking awfully pointy. Did bullet-immunity automatically mean stab-proof? Were bullets just too rounded to pierce the skin while knife points were small and sharp enough to create an entry point to breach his skin's defences? But didn't the bullet's velocity cancel out its bluntness? The last thing he wanted to do was get too cocky and claim he could survive anything, only to be downed by a thumbtack. He'd have to (safely) find out for sure at another time. Either way, even if he could survive being kebabbed by Aquaman's trident, it probably wouldn't be pleasant, and it was probably for the best he avoided any event leading to it.

Superman offered his hand. Billy looked at it warily. Was the Man of Steel about to shot-put him into space? Because Billy wasn't one hundred percent on whether he could survive that, either. Nobody said anything about lung capacity in the Shazam instruction manual. Now that he thought about it, though, maybe the stamina of Atlas fell into that jurisdiction. There was a lot of grey area he still had yet to discover, and most of that only came with trial and error.

He wasn't hurt in the slightest, he could easily get up on his own, but if Superman's extension was the proverbial olive branch, it was probably for the good of Billy's cred to take it, and he did. Plus there was also the fact that Freddy would never forgive him if he snubbed _Superman_ of all people.

Speaking of Freddy, Billy realized in that moment that he totally forgot to be starstruck for a while. Now that he was standing and at eye-level with the League, it was really sinking in. He basically just got hog-tied and interrogated by the Justice League! This was probably the one time anyone would consider it an honour to be spied on.

"You know," said Billy in an attempt to break the ice, "you guys could have just texted and invited me out for pizza. I totally would have come."

The Flash was swaying on his feet, like he was trying to find an appropriate time to say something to Superman. He leaned in aside. "Why did we let him go again?" he asked him.

"He didn't struggle," answered Superman, looking at Billy with what seemed to be a miniscule measure of respect. "He didn't try to escape. Forcing the truth from him didn't work. The least we can do is hear him out. As equals. Do you agree to our terms, stranger?"

Billy nodded so hard his head was practically a vibration. "Yup, mm-hmm, totally."

"Good. I'm sure you have some questions. As do we."

"Uh, yeah, actually," said Billy, twisting to look at his surroundings from every angle, "isn't Batman supposed to be part of your little—" Billy jolted and then shut his eyes to collect himself. "God...geez," he muttered. He found him. Had Batman been perched up there watching him this entire time?

* * *

**A/N: Welp, the audience has spoken! Overwhelmingly. I have been given the unanimously positive go-ahead to keep this story going. Now all I have to worry about is whether I can actually pull this off. I've got an ending set, but the middle I'm practically improvising at this point.**

**Note: The Greek gods who regularly appear in Wonder Woman's neck of the DC woods are one of the few beings that can resist the lasso of truth's powers. Shazam has the **"power of **Z**eus". **Therefore I conclude that Shazam is one of the **very, _very,_ _**very**_ **few who are immune to the lasso of truth. I like to imagine that Billy's inexperience made the resistance just a bit tricky, though, so that was my creative license at play.**


	3. The Willing Prisoner

Wonder Woman exhibited her rope. "If you please."

Despite the lasso of truth's powers rendered completely useless under the abilities Shazam bestowed, the rope itself still had a back-up trick—it remained physically unbreakable. Freddy had a trading card that said that somewhere, probably. That information had to have come from _somewhere_ for Billy to know it_._ He could recite secondhand superhero stats in his sleep these days.

Billy held out his hands, touching his fists together in cooperation. Wonder Woman circled the rope a few laps over his wrists, cinching them together tight. Aquaman and Superman stood sentry behind her, like guards as back-up, while her eyes were off her target. Superman seemed relaxed, but he was watching Billy's hands with unblinking precision. These guys really didn't mess around, did they? It was as though Billy were a crate of highly unstable nitroglycerin being prepped for transport. He didn't bother flexing to test if the rope was truly immune to snapping. He already built up a solid introduction and would do well to just go ahead with whatever the Justice League proposed.

While Wonder Woman tested her knot to make sure it was inflexible and secure, Billy could not help but be distracted by the way her hair fell, how it shined, how it seemed to capture the moonlight...

Batman landed with booted thump beside them, having stepped off his streetlight perch. Billy forced his expression into one as rigid as a soldier's.

Batman rose from his crouch as a black mass as if he had shaped himself from solid ink and emerged from the ground itself. The mask's white, pupiless eyes glowed a bit more intimidatingly than Billy wished to admit. Pupils were not necessary, though, to conclude with crystal clarity that Batman was directing his eyes straight into Billy's soul.

Batman's lips were set grimly in what small peak his mask offered. "There's much to discuss," he said in a rumbling voice that seemed to have a layer of voice modulation underlying it, just enough to give it an almost inhuman depth. An identity protecting feature no doubt—and an effective one at that. "It will be better if we brought you somewhere more remote. For all of us."

_What, like a wooded area in the mountains? _wondered Billy as Wonder Woman stepped back, the knot completed to her liking. _Top-secret ocean lair? The sewers? _Less mass city damage that way if negotiations got dicey, he supposed. Or maybe they didn't like staying in one exposed place too long to avoid detection. Maintaining incognito status was a lot harder these days when the majority of the population carried, at minimum, three different gadgets on their person that were capable of video recording.

* * *

Bruce, ultimately, chose to forego blindfolding The Man In Red. Going ahead with that decision would have been prudent, given how they were about to transport their suspect to The Hall (Barry, on a whim, suggested naming their new headquarters The Hall of Justice, and somehow that rather corny, on-the-nose title stuck.) However, Bruce had to consider x-ray vision, which would make a blindfold nothing more than an amusing sideshow. Given how the lasso of truth couldn't even work, Bruce did not have enough trust to take this stranger's word for it whether x-ray vision was a possibility or not. It was risky to allow The Man In Red his sight, but Bruce was prepared if ever The Hall should become compromised.

* * *

_Hey, aren't I supposed to be blindfolded by this point?_ mused Billy, looking between them all. He would have preferred not to narc on himself, though, so he stayed silent.

Batman held up a thumb-sized bit of indiscernible tech and pressed a button on it. It looked like a car fob—if you sort of tilted your head in one direction. Was the Batmobile about to beep to reveal it's location? Now that Billy thought about it, what kind of keychain would Batman put on his own car keys?

Nothing happened.

Oh, no, wait. Something clearly did, because Batman put away the...whatever it was...back into his utility belt. He brought his gauntlet up to his face and an orange, holographic interface buzzed to life.

"We'll meet you three back at headquarters," said Batman, air-tapping a few keys. "We'll be in touch should anything not go to plan."

Billy felt the collective burn of their suspicion.

Clearly they had all discussed their strategy prior, given that Wonder Woman, The Flash, and Superman nodded their okay. So that just left Aquaman, Cyborg and Batman to escort him to...wherever.

_So it's either go with the ones who don't like me, or the ones who _really_ don't like me,_ thought Billy. He sighed through his nose, resigning to his fate. _This is going to be the most awkward car ride of my life..._

Right now, this wasn't a matter of whose powers were better than whose, who could beat who, and other statistical things like that. This was a matter of seniority, and though Billy as a matter of principle still sometimes fell into his old habits of automatic rebellion against authority, The Justice League's reputation had captured his respect so resolutely that he could not feel the burn of his containment.

True, he was about to allow a group of strangers to tie him down, practically serving himself up on a platter to be led to any destination they wanted. On paper those weren't just red flags, those weren't even alarm bells, those were tornado sirens. A lifetime of stranger danger was telling Billy to bail and get an adult, but in an incredibly rare twist in this once-in-a-lifetime situation, this instance was different. These were superheroes who proved time and again how they truly believed in good. They were capable of kicking Billy's ass into oblivion and the cherry on top would be Superman eye-lasering the remaining ashes into ashes, no problem. But that result would come only if they had a reason.

And Billy was more than willing to not give them one.

He would be safe if he simply complied and didn't fight it. He could protest their interrogation and claim good intentions all he wanted, but words were just words, and anybody could fake their intentions behind bouquets of pretty words—he'd gone through plenty in the foster system to learn that deflating lesson first-hand. He would have to prove himself by being an example. This is what heroes did. They were just trying to shield the world from a potential catastrophe.

Unfortunately in this instance, that potential catastrophe's name was Billy Batson, and it was a school night. Hopefully this little interview wouldn't take too long...

"So, what do we call you?" asked Superman.

Billy almost felt grateful to be given the opportunity. He felt a lot more substantial and acknowledged if they referred to him by name rather than nothing at all. The only problem was...

"I'm still trying to figure that one out. Just call me...umm..." He squeezed his eyes shut in thought. What did Shazam call him?

_'Billy Batson. I choose you as Champion.'_

"For now, just call me The Champion."

Aquaman at the rear tried to disguise a snicker behind a throat clearing cough. Well, if that wasn't a confidence booster...

Billy found that he had done a surprising amount of growing in the past month. 'Actions Speak Louder Than Words' was a saying that held no meaning to him before. The overused phrase was empty and held discount wisdom that never meant anything practical, nothing applicable. Yet after his experiences, that tired old wisdom's value seemed to gradually start making a whole lot more sense these days.

Or maybe that was the wisdom of Solomon kicking in.

He even forgot for a moment that he was a physically strong, muscled man in The Justice League's eyes. Yet despite the big body that was nigh inpenetrable, it always sheltered a scared little fourteen year old boy on the inside, and all the inflated, self-assured ego in the world could not make the toddler who lost his mother poke his head out from the small place hidden away in his heart. Despite standing just as tall as most of the Justice League members in this form, and even more buff than half of them, he could not shake how safe, shielded, and secure he felt in the escort cocoon they provided.

"See you soon," said Wonder Woman to the remaining three—or four, if Billy counted himself, but he was pretty sure he was just 'the cargo' at this point.

Exiting the alley like a normal person was clearly too much to ask for superheroes. The Flash two-finger saluted and suddenly a red blur replaced the space he had just occupied. Superman popped into the air like a rocket, creating a whooshing breeze through everybody's hair. Wonder Woman crouched and leaped like she was spring-loaded, reaching the heights of Superman, except more succeptible to gravity, and she landed on the apartment rooftop above them, disappearing from view. The streak of light in the nightsky that was Superman soon curled, redirecting course, and was gone.

Billy continued to stare up into the stars. God, they were all so...organized. He suddenly felt like a flopping salmon trying to get in good with a school of sharks. He'd done okay so far by mostly winging it—hey, no one really taught him any better, Shazam kind of...expired before he could volunteer to be Billy's mentor, leaving Freddy to fill in a gap in the spectacular way that only Freddy Freeman could—but the Justice League totally just made their operation look like finger-painting at the Louvre.

There was something else he couldn't help but notice. Something more about the League than just another day at the office. They banded together when times got tough. Really tough, in their case. Like, trying to keep the literal _world_ in one piece kind of tough. But a special brand of togetherness all the same.

Like a family...

Billy brought himself back to Earth. He could not allow himself to get attached to that feeling. Nothing was a given. Joining the League was a child's dream, their ranks were already well-represented. He needed to get used to defaulting to a solo act.

The Vasquez's were different. They were proving to be a mainstay. They chose Billy. Shazam's powers were also proving to be a mainstay. Billy was chosen. The Justice League, however, had no personal commitment in him. They had responsibility to his powers, yes, from the world's point of view, but not to regular old Billy. They were too busy and too needed in the world to worry about the microscopic stuff like jaywalking, not picking up after your dog, and some kid barely out of middle school.

That is, if they ever discovered he was just some kid barely out of middle school. That would cancel his Justice League membership for sure! Best that little detail stay Billy's little secret.

And Freddy's.

And also Darla's.

Oh, and Mary's.

And Eugene's. And Pedro's.

How many people actually knew Billy's real identity again?

* * *

**A/N: So, **_**so**_** sorry for the long delay! Forgive my absence! I got a new job and it's quite physically demanding. It's kicking my **_**ass**_**. I usually come home bone tired and mentally put out, so I haven't been able to be as busy writing-wise as I wish I can be, but I have every intention of finishing this. Thank you all very much for your patience! The outpouring of Favorites and Follows has been absolutely astounding! Thank you all! Just...WOW! It's insane, my Favorites/Follows notifications are blowing up! It's wonderful!**

_Guest_ \- **Oh thank you! Totally aware of the Flashpoint Paradox scene you're talking about, yep! That did happen. But if I really think about it...should it have happened? I truly think the power of Zeus would very likely nullify the lasso's effects, and I felt comfortable going with that here since the DCEU also deviates or reworks established stories a little bit from time to time. So I didn't feel like too much of a bad writer to play with lore, but only in ways that totally make sense with the information in the stories I've been given. If that makes sense.**  
**Plus, you're totally right, Billy is one of the most powerful DC heroes (even though he doesn't really know it yet) we gotta give him a little bit of an edge, right? ;) I very much love the dynamic of all this immense power given to someone who is pretty much unequipped to wield said immense power. Makes for a BIG learning curve.**  
**I'm gonna take a chance and say that Diana does not know about the whole Shazam business.**

_Denz-El_ \- **Oh wow! Thank you, thank you for those lovely words! I really do hope I'm able to keep up the entertainment value for you.**


	4. The Very Awkward Ride

Of course, the wisest question might have been to ask, '_where are you taking me?'_, but Billy had an inkling that he wouldn't get a straight answer. Maybe the police were bound by law to disclose certain information, but superhero vigilantes by nature usually took it upon themselves to spit in the eye of proper protocol.

Batman raised his gauntlet and tapped the holographic orange keys again. An engine revved somewhere in the night. Headlights loomed around the four-way intersection corner of another apartment building and headed toward them.

_Oh my God, oh my God, it's the Batmobile,_ Billy thought rapidly, trying to quell the sudden urge to hop excitedly. He knocked his knees together to keep still. _I'm going to ride in THE Batmobile. Why didn't I bring my phone?_ A selfie in there would look so great on his Facebook banner...

The Batmobile acted as though it were a loyal dog, stopping against the curb for Batman, waiting for its next command. Billy had heard of remote car starters, but remote car driving? It was simply too good to be real. The rumors of Batman being a secret government agent (possible android) were starting to gain some cred.

The tires were so massive they were at elbow-level to Billy's superhero form, and probably just barely street legal. The car looked exactly how he imagined a Batmobile to look like, but Freddy could probably name the make, model, and differentiate whether it was the Bat Urban Assault vehicle, the Bat Tank, or the Batshopping Cart.

However, when it came time for Billy and his entourage to pile in, he found out very quickly about the rule of space—in order to fit all those projectiles, and missiles, and cannons, and armor-electro-hydro-gyroscope whozits and whatsits, some sacrifices had to be made elsewhere. Namely the passenger seating, which was a little cozier than normal people would deem comfortable.

Most fortunate for Billy, he got to sit in the backseat next to the bulkiest guy of the bunch—Aquaman.

The Batmobile was only a two-door vehicle, the back seats had none. The roof of the Batmobile was meant to slide open from the top, allowing the only entry, leaving the doors only for the driver and passenger.

Once everyone buckled in, Batman put the pedal to the metal. Billy edged very close to his side of the car, hands in lap, knees pressed together, trying not to get in the way of Aquaman's manspread. Touching knees and then having to apologize would have just been the awkward icing on the awkward cake.

Just binding Billy's hands together as a means of containment wasn't enough, that didn't mean he couldn't use his arms to attack karate-chop style, so Aquaman held the rope tail, wrapping it several times around his veiny, muscled fist to hold firm. Billy almost felt like a dog on a leash. It was borderline humiliating. He couldn't even distract himself by looking out the window. Everything passed by in a blur. Batman was not only breaking speed limits but probably breaking the sound barrier, too.

He also had very distinct taste in music. The Batmobile was tuned to a police scanner which crackled and burst in the background every once in a while with live audio feed from police dispatch, and Batman didn't seem very keen on switching channels to something more boppy, like Power 99 FM or something.

Cyborg and Aquaman seemed attuned to the car's hyperspeed turns, leaning into them well, as though Batman carpooled them into work this way every morning. Billy's powers may have banished any bouts of car sickness his teenage self would have inevitably been feeling right now, but that didn't stop him from being succeptable to gravity as another sharp turn put his abs to work as he fought to sit straight.

Five minutes was probably all it took, there was no clock to say otherwise, but the trip definitely felt longer. That was probably the most stifling silence of Billy's life. And yet, there was still some thrill in seeing real life heroes at work. This whole process was all so inconvenient due to his restraints, and yet awe-inspiring for him at the same time. This wasn't as glamorous as getting to observe the Justice League fighting the big ones, the catastrophic supervillains, but he supposed this was just another superhero lesson for him, that not every costumed outing was meant to bring praise, glory, and recognition.

Philadelphia's night-time lights seemed to be getting more and more sparse by the second. Billy would have glanced over his shoulder through the rear window to confirm, but there was no window. How did Batman drive this thing without being able to see what was behind him? The Batmobile was probably the world's most extravagant car that employed the discomforting style of a windowless van.

Batman had definitely driven out to the country. Like, really in the country where sideroads were winding strips of dusty, crunchy gravel. He braked much more smoothly than his lead foot would have led Billy to believe. Batman and Cyborg exited first. The roof slid open. Billy knew what he had to do. It was time to face the music. He managed to step out of the car using nothing but legwork.

But this trip clearly wasn't over yet.

A sleek, black plane hovered over the field—the Batwing. Again, where Billy got that name from, he couldn't remember. Newspaper? Internet? Freddy again? The origins of all these superhero factoids were beginning to blur.

Aquaman never walked ahead. He would not move until Billy did by prompting him forward with an indication of his head in which direction he wanted Billy to go. As demeaning as that felt, that was the smart way to do it, Billy had to agree. A correctional officer would never let a prisoner trail behind them, would they?

The plane was a small little thing as far as planes went, which probably suited Batman just fine. The smaller, the less obvious, and he must have been the only passenger on most flights anyway.

Batman touched another itty-bitty scrap of tech somewhere on his belt, and the plane's transparent cockpit roof whirred and slid back to allow them entry, similar to the Batmobile. Did Batman have some sort of aversion to doors or something?

A mechanical ladder unfolded, touching ground.

"I call shotgun?" Billy tried with a well-meaning smile.

Aquaman wore a smile of his own, but it definitely wasn't one that matched. His thick, meaty hand clapped Billy's shoulder. "And miss continuing our delightful conversation from the car? Wouldn't dream of it." He steered Billy forward.

The Batwing's wingspan was super impressive, yet the cabin was only as big as a standard four-door vehicle's. There were only four seats, two up front, one definitely reserved for Batman to pilot, and a cockpit passenger. The two seats in the back, however, were each backed against opposite sides of the cabin, facing eachother.

"See?" said Aquaman, giving Billy two hearty pats on the back. "Exactly where we want to be, right, Champ?"

Billy smiled uncomfortably, his feeble laugh escaping in nervous spurts.

* * *

Bruce had discussed The League's seating formation beforehand. Arthur was the first means of defense, and if somehow The Champion could get past him and attacked Bruce from behind, Victor was the only one who would know how to take control of the Batwing.

'The Man In Red' codename outlived its usefulness now. The Champion, he called himself.

_We shall see, _thought Bruce, seating himself at the Batwing helm, flipping the ignition switch. The name could be either ironic, or a self-fulfilling prophecy.

* * *

All through the trip, Billy tried to look out the window to pass the heavy seconds, and to escape the burn of distrust from every single passenger he shared his ride with. Nobody spoke to him, but to be fair, none of them spoke to eachother either. Whatever they planned they were serious about it, and were executing it to a T by the look of things.

Unfortunately, the Batwing was capable of such speeds and altitudes that wind, cloud, and fog whipped across Billy's part of the window, mostly obscuring anything back on Earth. Even if the view had been clear, the pin-prick lights of Philadelphia were leaving. The little dots were getting more and more sparse. Billy wondered whether they were headed for another city, or somewhere more remote like the deep, deep countryside. He couldn't ask, though. Shattering the silence felt like an absolute sin. He made sure his hands were rested over his knees again, lest Aquaman's watchful gaze interpret them as scheming.

Billy eventually gave up on the window and cast his gaze onto his lap. While he was simultaneously excited out of his mind and tights-wettingly anxious, he hoped The Justice League wouldn't expand their hunt and pry into his foster sibling's Shazam connection. He couldn't imagine how Darla would react if she were subjected to this kind of interrogative process. He couldn't let The Justice League do that to her, well-meaning as they were. They didn't know the truth.

After a span of not even five minutes, the plane began to descend. That weird, swooping feeling in his gut from the altitude drop broke Billy out of his trance-like state.

_Oh, finally,_ he thought gratefully. He really needed to invest in a watch. Bringing your phone was hard on super-excursions when the magic spandex didn't think to add magic pockets too.

On second thought, he would have to explain the very frequent cracked-screen rate to Rosa and Victor...

The plane touched down as if the tarmac was made of pillow, Billy barely rocked upon landing. If his hands weren't bound he would have politely applauded.

Batman flipped multiple switches and the Batplane's engines whirred down. Aquaman unclipped his harness and lurched over to Billy to assist with his.

"End of the line, buddy. Let's go," said Aquaman with a leering smile, clapping Billy on the shoulder. "After you."

The roof slid away and the ladder unfolded. Billy stood and meant to clumsily climb down without the use of his hands (yes, he _could_ fly out, but given the circumstances, that wasn't a good idea), but was entranced by the view waiting for him outside when he turned. He expected maybe an idling truck waiting to take him underground. Or maybe a secret, underground bunker. Instead, a square, multi-story manor with a few pockets of light shining through its facade, surrounded by endless plains of grass that stretched into the dark night, greeted him.

The hideout was expansive. Like, fancy French chateau huge. Like, hosting Cinderella's Ball, debutantes, and guests who used one hundred dollar bills as napkins for their shrimp cocktail, _that_ kind of huge. It was just a sprawling estate seemingly the middle of nowhere.

"Oh wow..." Billy exhaled in awe. "Now _that's_ a lair." Where could he and Freddy get one of these?

* * *

**A/N: *Mushu rise* I LIIIIIIVE!**  
**Had that much time really passed since the last chapter?! I'm a monster!  
**  
**I am soooo sorry for the long wait! I didn't mean to be away from this story for this long. Thank you very much for your patience. You are all just the sweetest, this is an incredible turnout on Favorites and Follows, I'm floored! I'm almost intimidated by the sheer numbers, I rarely see this kind of turnout.  
**  
**I feel bad that this chapter is so infuriatingly short, but I really wanted to get it out sooner to at least let you all know that I really still do want to go through with Promoted Fanboy and see it to the end.**


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